


When You Find It

by KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Series: Not Everyone Has a Cobblepot [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: But not forever, Continuation of another AU, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, character tags added as they appear, season 2/3 AU, self discovery, sequel fic, slow burn actually, this is a long ride au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-09-30 16:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: AKA How the Riddler Got His NameEdward and Oswald had never been happier, when circumstances occur that come between them. That destroy their happiness, and all Ed has left is a quest for revenge which helps him to understand just who he really is and what he wants.Sequel to Life Only Gives You OneSecond major work in the series.





	1. Chapter 1

Their fingers locked, breath mingling as Ed pressed his nose against Oswald’s neck. They had only gotten home less than an hour ago. It was Sunday, which meant dinner with Gertrud, in which she worried over Edward being too skinny and Oswald working too hard. She called them her boys, forcing seconds and thirds on them as she told stories of Oswald’s childhood much to the criminal’s embarrassment and his lover’s delight. He sounded like he must have been such a sweet little boy. Ed wished they could have known one another in their childhood. He wished they could have known one another since infancy. To have lived lives together, and not wasted the nearly three decades of time between birth and finally meeting one another. That’s all it had been for Edward. Time wasted. Girls or guys pursued, idiots managed, days ticked off in monotony as he watched life slip past and strove only to get what few pleasures he believed possible. 

He had no idea of what was truly possible though. Not before Oswald. His body tensed as he neared an orgasm, Oswald rocking in and out of him in a soft rhythm that made Ed whine in a restless need for more. He was convinced the shorter man did it on purpose. Torturing him like this. It was why he always insisted on being… well what colloquially was referred to as the top in moments of his real need-- Oswald loved to tease, and while usually that was appreciated and only heightened Ed’s sense of climax, other times it was the single most infuriatingly unfair thing to ever occur. Not that Ed even mentioned minding, or ever really asked to be the top. Top seemed such a silly word for it, anyway. They switched roles often and evenly enough  that the words meant little anyway and seemed to always suit one another’s preferences. They belonged to each other, and their lovemaking was never less than utterly satisfying, regardless of who did which action. 

Oh dear. 

Ed was in the midst of considering his pride over just how contented he was with the sex life he never imagined wanting and now couldn’t imagine living without when he realized just how near that sweet precipice of release he was. 

“O-OSWALD…” It was strangled, muffled into Oswald’s skin and breathed in a voice which trembled in time with Ed’s body. He could feel himself so very near. This was one of the things that he loved about Oswald being inside of him. Despite the abundance of experience Ed had gained since they began their romance, he still seemed to struggle at times with self control. Orgasms overcame him rather quicker and with more unavoidable desperation than he liked. Oswald once reassured him that there was no reason to feel shame for it-- that he could easily finish himself were Ed to be the one between Oswald’s thighs, or in cases like this, Oswald was happy to finish promptly with what he needed after Edward arrived so to speak. And that had worked to a degree. Ed wasn’t ashamed really. He believed Oswald didn’t mind. He really did. But at the same time, he minded. He minded a lot. He wanted their ardorous moments to last as long as possible but in most cases, he couldn’t help himself. He just couldn’t. 

Right now, it was the way Oswald was biting against his shoulder, hands on Ed’s hips as he rocked in and out with that soft slowness that came from languid sessions. Long kisses moving to caresses and eventually into this. There was little urgency. They had all night. And furthermore, every night there after. They knew that. They were safe and comfortable with each other and so Ed just kept his fingers raking into Oswald’s hair and worked to stifle his pleasure while trying to entice Oswald to move faster. In the end, he got what he wanted. Oswald began to speed up his thrusting, which unfortunately was all it took for the already too stimulated Edward to spill over his stomach, and soon after Oswald likewise came. A beautiful, wonderful sort of glow came over them, bathing them in the bliss of post orgasmic content. 

Afterwards, Oswald rolled off of him and nuzzled against his shoulder. 

“I left a mark.” He mumbled with a small blush crossing his so very freckled cheeks, as he had moved to clean them up a bit with the nearby bedsheet before casting it away and pulling a blanket over them to rest his head on Ed’s chest. Edward without thinking, wrapped both arms around Oswald, clutching him close-- almost as if afraid he would leave. Of course he wasn’t, but he just liked the way he felt so close against him. 

“Ohh…” He hissed a little though when Oswald’s hand brushed over the distinct bruising hat was already rising in the shape of his teeth marks.

“I’m sorry.” Oswald frowned a little, pulling back to look into Ed’s eyes, but the taller man was quick to reassure him. 

“No, don’t be… Oswald, I… I like that it hurts a little. It’s a reminder of… Pleasant things.” Ed blushed a little, unable to say sex even now with Oswald’s seed still leaking a little between his thighs and his body fresh from the heights of orgasm. His modesty knew no bounds, and iit compelled Oswald to roll his eyes with a smirk before kissing him deeply. 

“I love you, Edward Nygma.” He murmured and Ed licked his lips, looking down.

“And I love you.” He said softly. It felt so odd. All that time spent with such certainty he might never hear those words from him. But here they were. And Oswald said them so freely and frequently, Ed felt a little spoiled.

They laid together quietly for a while before finally Ed got up to put on his boxers and fix them some tea. He could feel the… evidence of their encounter slipping still between his legs. On the first occasion that they were together like this, Ed had been rather uncomfortable, and excused himself to shower immediately thereafter in an attempt to rid himself of the sensation. That had been…. A difficult conversation afterwards. Oswald expressed a feeling of irritation at Ed immediately needing to shower as if he felt dirty because of Oswald. Which of course was emphatically not the case. Ed assured him, even as he realized since it was his first time having Oswald inside him, it did rather make sense that he could feel that way. They talked about it actually. The feeling. The discomfort. Ed made the agreement not to shower, and Oswald agreed not to take it personally that Ed would go and clean up on his own before tending other matters. He often wondered why Oswald never seemed to need to clean himself when Ed took the lead in their encounters, but at the time, Oswald had assured him that he had enough experience not to mind. He would handle anything which needed to be done later. They would come to a similar understanding about oral sex as well. Ed just wasn’t ready, and Oswald was incredibly, profoundly patient-- after an encounter in which Ed had pushed himself too far too fast and found himself gagging and also crying out of a sheer sense of failure. That’s how it was in the beginning though. Ed pushed himself always, to the very brink of falling apart because he loved Oswald. And he needed Oswald to know that, and to never wonder, and to feel as completely satisfied by Ed as Ed did by him. Sometimes it had been okay. Other times, it had been closer to disasterous. But in the end, here they were, and coming out of the bathroom, heading for the kettle, Ed felt a blush on his cheeks to think of the fact that they were here. 

Having made compromises. Having given and taken to one another. Figuring things out, stumbling through the difficult moments, having fights-- making up. They were in an actual relationship, and just the thought felt somehow special. It made Ed feel… special. Important. Because Oswald Cobblepot didn’t just love him, and didn’t just share a bed with him-- but the notorious Penguin, a prolific sort of criminal and utter genius in his own right, was in a relationship with him. They were together, and they had found a way to be just so incredibly happy.

Oswald stretched out in the meanwhile, yawning a little. Ed tossed his robe to the other man with a smile, knowing he likely would prefer it as always. Even having a few sets of pajamas kept here for such occasions, Oswald rarely wore anything other than Ed’s robe after they had sex. When Ed asked about it once, Oswald had said he liked the way it always carried that strong scent of Edward, and that answer had been embarrassingly sweet enough that Ed never needed to bring the subject again. 

With the robe on, Oswald headed to join Ed only to manage barely three steps before groaning softly in pain and grabbing the nearby dresser as his ankle began to give way. 

“Damn!” He cursed softly, looking down where the old injury still caused him trouble now and again when overused. Ed rushed to his side and helped him back to sit on the bed, drawing his leg up to massage it. 

“You’re overworking it again. The stairs to your mother’s apartment and then back up here to mine…. Then our activities just now likely didn’t help matters… Not to mention, you never use your cane as you should.” Ed was rambling as his thumb brushed across the indentaton of an improperly healed wound, the skin red and inflamed with the irritation of overexercision. Ed still felt irritation any time he touched it. Fish Mooney breaking his leg in some violent anger of a slight. It had been nothing luckily, in comparison to what Oswald was actually orchestrating against her. Lucky for him, as would later become obvious when he ran her out of town. Now he was Falcone’s right hand-- not that it would last too terribly long. He would see even Falcone dethroned. But NOT if he ended up unable to walk by his own stubbornness. 

Oswald meanwhile, held back a smirk as he gave a retort of. “Edward, I hardly think that the use of a cane would help me with our intimacy.. At least not practically. If it’s recreationally that you’d like to try…” He trailed off into a soft laugh when Ed gave him a small glare that was undermined by just how adorably pink Ed’s ears had turned. 

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” He grumbled a little and focused his attention to Oswald’s  sore ankle. The criminal fell quiet. Ed could have left it there, or have continued his lecture about the damaged joint, but instead he decided to draw back an earlier conversation. “You never said when you were making your move and what you needed from me. You know I want to help.” 

Oswald was quiet, and Ed couldn’t help but frown at the fact. He was the most amazing man-- the most incredible person Ed had ever known and he wanted little more than to fall on his knees some days in surrender to the very idea of being loved back by him. And once upon a time, he would have thought that the only feelings he’d have about the matter. But now-- ever since their first night together when Oswald made all those beautiful promises and Ed fully believed every word, when both parts of him came together in this deliberate, beautiful sort of way to love Oswald. To believe in him and allow him to be more than just the man he loved and worshipped. He became the man he was certain of. He’d never allowed himself that luxury before. He had never let himself truly accept anyone else before…. But now. Here. He loved Oswald enough to know him and be known, and the most frustrating thing was that Oswald had said they would build eachother. Become what they would, with one another. That they would be remarkably, profoundly linked and that their destinies would be ones that were equally grand and built together. They were partners now. Ever since that night. 

And now…

Now, here he was with secrets? No, worse than secrets. It was more deliberate than lies. He genuinely didn’t think Ed could help him. He didn’t think Edward capable of offering aid. Despite how much Ed had done to show him quite the contrary, he was keeping Ed out of this to what? Protect him? No! That wasn’t right. Ed wasn’t in need of protection, he was---

“Right now, all I need is for you to keep a low profile and continue your work.” Oswald’s voice broke through Ed’s spiral as he reached out and pushed fingertips through Ed’s shaggy, sex mussed curls. Oh dear, that always felt so good. Too good. Ed’s irritation was already fading as he looked down at his hands still working away at Oswald’s old injury. “I can’t risk needing you for much more important work later by giving into my rather strong impulses of seeing you put a bullet in some poor gangster’s head now… Trust me, Ed… I want that more than I should. But… I have to be smart and cautious. You’re such an amazing resource for me to have inside the GCPD and I can’t risk that for fun….” As he spoke, he shifted closer on the bed to sit next to Ed, pulling his leg away and kissing his cheek softly. Then his neck. 

Oh that felt good too. 

Why was Oswald so good at reading him? And why was he so good at controlling their talks. Even now, even knowing what he was doing, Ed melted against his lover and soon they stretched out in the bed and just kept kissing for a long, languid while. Thoughts of plans and helping were all cast to the wayside in lieu of enjoying the taste of his lips and the feeling of his hands on Ed’s body. He always touched him so softly. It was a remarkable sort of thing to be able to take what was a very single minded man and make him little more than a groaning pile of limbs and soft hunger. 

In the coming months, Ed would hate this fact. Hate himself for not pressing. He should have been more careful, more sincere about his attempts to try and impress on him just how dangerous this all was. How much he needed the help. How unsafe it all was. His brilliant, amazing plans-- they weren’t enough. He wouldn’t be protected by that brilliant mind. He wasn’t 10 steps ahead this time. If only Ed could have known, he could have saved him. He could have…

_ If only.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oswald is missing and Ed is in denial.

He went missing one day in the midst of his schemes. Ed was sure he’d turn up though, that he’d come home. He gave it a full week of silence, going to work every day and leaving notes behind those mornings in his apartment-- just in case the Penguin came by.

_‘At work. Call me please. Love, Ed’_

_‘Leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. Please be here when I get home. Love, Ed’_

_‘I just want to know if you’re safe. Call me. Love, Ed’_

_‘I picked up your dry cleaning. It’s on the bed. I hope you’re okay. Love,Ed.’_

_‘If you read this PLEASE call me. I’m worried. Love, Ed’_

There had been a gang related incident. Some kind of violence. Ed looked through the reports and read that Oswald had been a part of it, but that he was considered a missing person there after. That sounded right. It certainly made sense. Oswald wasn’t the sort to let anything serious happen to him, but vanishing was as likely as anything. Just for a while. Ed remembered when it happened once before for a while. Back when he was just an admirer of the criminal. He had been worried then, but it all worked out. He was certain it would again. Oswald was his soul mate after all, and soul mates didn’t just die when their lives were getting started. Oswald couldn’t die. He was too powerful. Too important. Too exceptional. Just to be safe, he kept an eye on the case report. Kristin Kringle down in record keeping seemed to find his presence cloying but all the same, Ed managed to ignore her chiding and complaints. She just didn’t understand. Oswald was his. He had to know where he went.

Then one afternoon, when Ed took his regular after lunch trip down to the annex to look at the file, prepared again to assure Kristen he didn’t want to take the file with him-- which he only refused because if he had the file with him, he wouldn’t just read it once, he would read it endlessly and obsessively, forsaking his job and anything else to do with his time even as the report of course wasn’t going to change, in the name of searching for any clue about Oswald… It was better to leave it there. Check it as a reward for finishing his morning work and making himself eat what had become a more modest lunch since worry began to creep into his mind. This system worked. But on this afternoon a new witness report made it into those files.

The date was today.

The time this morning.

Anonymous name.

Ed’s heart skipped. Maybe it was Oswald. In some clever move to ensure the another crime boss from that night would be taken down. Had he been cleverly laying in wait? Had he just been biding his time in secret? Was all of this about timing. Oh the clever--- No wait, this couldn’t be Oswald. The handwriting was atrocious in the statement aspect. Which Oswald could have faked, but what was far worse was the grammar. And then as Edward was reading it, he realized.

No.

No, this was some kind of trick. A lie. Oswald was seen being chased to the docks by an anonymous officer. And then as he stood on the edge, begging for his life, the officer raised his gun and fired. Shot point blank range. In the skull. Thrown in the river.  The officer holstered his weapon and seemed satisfied as he walked away.

No.

Ed read it again. And again. This couldn’t be right. It just couldn’t be.

 **NO**.

Kristin Kringle entered the room with a frown, making a comment about how “nice” it was to see he was still so comfortable just barging into her office when he liked. Normally, he would take her abuse. Arguing with her wasn’t helpful. It served no greater purpose to argue with her and what’s more, she tended to be innocuous. But in this moment as his body trembled and he felt like the ground under him was being ruptured, his eyes snapped up from the file to fix her with a venom filled glare.

“Miss Kringle, I think you’ll find that this is the records annex and thus is open to all personnel of the GCPD. Furthermore, as the record keeper here, your tone should be far more helpful than as to accuse me of being somehow impeding privacy you don’t have. If you want an office, work on getting a better job. Don’t take out your lack of ambition on me.” His tone was as biting as his words, neither of which came close to matching the vitriolic disdain in his eyes. She shrank back slightly, looking offended. Maybe even hurt. Ed would feel bad about that later, if at all. Right now, he was grateful for the way she scurried off and left him with the opportunity to read the case file yet once more.

Okay.

Okay.

Deep breaths.

_Okay._

This isn’t necessarily true. It’s just a case file. It’s a witness statement. It could be as meaningless as anything else. He reassured himself. Again and again. Okay, but this witness. If Oswald was plotting this then… Then Ed needed to find them. If Oswald sent him the man could tell him. If not then--

No.

Simply put, no.

Ed couldn’t consider any other version of events than these. He would ask around, do some snooping, check security footage of the building for the morning and see who came in and gave this statement and move from there to find the person. Track them down. Question them. Any means necessary, which was honestly quite the fun prospect. He hadn’t been violent with anyone since losing Oswald, and having gotten rather accustomed to living vicariously through his lover’s stories and even finding occasional solace in the rare instance of a chance to help-- much like that first exquisite night they shared together, Ed missed it. He missed having something to feel connected to.

Ed closed the file, feeling determined there was little to no reason to bother with taking it even now. He had fully memorized he contents after all. He slipped the file back into its place within the awful system Miss Kringle used. One day he would have to show her the proper way to file things. This was utter chaos and idiotic. But that would be another day. For now, he needed to obtain security footage from the building and try to figure out who would have been the man giving the statement. A difficult task to do without being obvious, but far from impossible. Ed would find him. And from there he would find Oswald.

\---

Butch Gilzean. That was his name. He recognized him as a lackey Oswald thought little of, even after Falcone’s helpful training. Oswald always said if Butch was less than loyal it would be because of Fish. And even that he doubted because Don Falcone saw to it that Victor Zsasz had done an excellent job with him. He was like Oswald’s loyal dog. And now clearly he had some information which Ed wanted. He found him after work that day with remarkable ease. He was at the club-- of which Tarquin Stemmel had taken over as Oswald’s second in command until he could return. Just as well. But of course, the club was still considered the heart of Oswald’s territory. Even as in the last week of him being missing, Ed was able to gather mumbles in Gotham’s underworld that men and women alike were waging wars to carve up the empire Oswald had been building. That bothered Ed more than it should… After all, this must be part of Oswald’s plan. Oswald who was definitely, absolutely, without question **alive**. Ed just had to find him.

Ed approached him with a pleasant enough smile. Perhaps if he could be charming enough, he could be told where Oswald was.

“Hello, Mr. Gilzean. Remember me?” He asked casually enough.

The large man frowned with furrowed brows and then managed a smile. “You’re that squirrely guy who used to stick it in Oswald, right? Uh… Nigel…?” He managed and Ed had to swallow back the bile in his throat and the desire to kill this man right here. Right now. While he was indeed the man who used to “stick it in” Oswald Cobblepot, the idea of their tender and deeply emotional lovemaking being referred to so crassly, and even worse spoken of at all by this neanderthal. But-- he had information Edward wanted.

“Yes, it’s uhh… It’s Nygma actually. Edward Nygma.”

“Huh. Weird name.” He shrugged and moved to take a swig of his drink, still sitting at the bar and giving little to no interest to Ed.

“Right umm… So I was wondering, Mr. Gilzean if you knew anything about where Oswald might be?” He asked quietly-- discreetly.

Butch hesitated, as if sensing why Ed was asking. “Nah.” He answered with shake of his head.

That moment of pause was enough to inspire Edward’s fresh indignation. He struggled to suppress it much as he struggled to ignore that pesky voice in the back of his head.

_‘We should kill him. Be done with him. How easy it would be! Besides which he’s obviously lying to you. He knows where Oswald is. He won’t tell you. He should die.’_

_Yes but then he’ll never tell me._ He thought in return only to suddenly see his oh so pressing alter ego peering at him over the drinking gorilla’s shoulder.

_‘Yes, but there is little chance he will tell you at all. If you kill him, you may be able to use his death to draw out confessions from others of Oswald’s men who may come out of the woodwork as a response to a gruesome murder of their colleague. Imagine a man this size…  Imagine the kind of knife you would need to--”_

“Enough.” Ed growled and it was with this that Butch looked up with a frown.

“Huh?” His apeish confusion and vague bristle were enough to vanish the hallucination.

Ed’s face flushed and his angry expression faded almost instantly as his other self was gone and it was just he and this other man. This very large brute of a man who if approached with little to no forethought could easily kill Edward. His other self was usually more rational. He was eager. So was Ed were he honest. Eager for answers, and what’s more the chance to use this man’s blood to paint the floor. Edward was slipping. He could feel it a bit. That other part of himself was gaining momentum again-- showing up in ways he hadn’t really since Ed finally confessed the truth to Oswald. There was something about Oswald. Something about the way he accepted him. All of him. Even the parts that normally manifested in hallucinations that told Ed how much he was pathetic and how much better his darker self was…. The part of him that kept him in line… Was just that. Just another part of him when he had Oswald. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was that he was always getting worse and now it just came out in his agitation. Maybe Oswald was the most calming thing Ed had ever known. Maybe being loved was healing in a way.

Regardless, that part of his life seemed far and away as he now made eye contact with Butch Glizean, the brobdingnagian monstrosity of a lower evolved primate, and struggled to think of an answer for his outburst. His anger was already there and suddenly he found himself tapping into it.

“Enough lies, Butch. I know you know where Oswald is. Tell me or else.” He spat. His rage, which was a new thing Ed was trying out in that he allowed himself to stand up to a bully rather than do the more cowardly but also more strategic move of backing down. Perhaps he could intimidate him. After all, Ed wasn’t a small man. He was tall. And capable at that. Perhaps Butch would feel some fear for the man’s clear gritted anger. Perhaps---

Butch’s laughter broke through Ed’s hopeful notions of his own machismo. He laughed at him. Worse still, he laughed in his face at him. Mockingly, Cruelly. As if the idea of the forensics specialist so much as considering threatening anyone was the single most hilarious moment of his meager, crime addled existence.

“Look, stretch… I get that he’s your guy or whatever. But he’s not going to be around anymore. Let’s put it that way. Move on. Meet a nice guy. Settle down and forget about whatever freaky stuff was going down with you and  the Penguin. He’s history.” His tone dripped with condescension. As if he really thought he were doing Ed a service to not take him seriously and let him off with his chuckle as if it were all some big joke. As if HE were some big joke. Perhaps to some men it would indeed be seen as a charitable act. Ed wasn’t one of those men.

That laughter was still ringing in his ears when he was told to “move on”. This moron thought there was on? He thought there was something for Ed beyond Oswald. That felt all the more insulting. Made all the worse by the fact he was insisting Oswald was just gone. Like it was forever. Like there was no chance of ever seeing him again. Which only brought up more questions as it filled Ed’s stomach with that lurching, retching feeling of what had happened to Oswald. Where was he. Why wasn’t he home. Was he really---

No.

Ed couldn’t even think the word. Butch was obviously _lying._ He had lied to the police in his statement. He was lying now. There was no other option.  Ed just had to get him to confess. Which shouldn’t be too difficult. Edward was a genius. He decided brute strength was in no way going to be a match for his brilliance and set to devising a plan to get the truth from the man, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it has been quite a break with the new year since I touched this. I am so glad to be back at it! I hope you guys appreciate the update. There is plenty more on the way. Please kudos and comment if you are still interested in the fate of our two boys. I promise things may get much worse but it is only so they will get far FAR better. (: 
> 
> I love everyone reading this with all my heart. This verse and fics are something I am still so astonished anyone else is out there reading and it just means so much to me that you all care.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Sequel underway. As erratic as my posting schedules are, I do hope people are still interested in what happens to these dorks. For now, this is the lead in. What I owe to you all considering where that epilogue left us. 
> 
> Your comments, kudos, and subscriptions sustain me. Keep them up. And I hope you enjoy this hot mess.


End file.
